


11 p.m.

by lizziecocoa



Category: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: AU, F/M, Oneshot, i am trash, just fluff, oh look it's another feysand AU, probably won't continue, smol baby bat, trash trash trash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-01
Updated: 2017-05-01
Packaged: 2018-10-26 00:55:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 763
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10776090
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lizziecocoa/pseuds/lizziecocoa
Summary: An AU in which Feyre and Rhysand have their first kiss. Little fluffy one-shot, very short.





	11 p.m.

The first time he kisses her, it’s in a rush of passion and need.

 

They’re standing under the blinking lights of the ice cream shop, stomachs full of the sugary treat and smiles painted onto their faces. This is their third date, and he thinks he’s already in love with her-- with the way her hair falls over her face and those nimble hands hold a paintbrush-- with the way her mouth curves into that smile so few see-- with how quietly courageous she is. But for her, he is waiting-- for her slowly healing soul, so divine in the 11 p.m. light of the old ice cream shop, listening to the sounds of the old owner pack up.

 

“What are you looking at,” she says to him with a slight uptilt gracing that sensuous mouth, and he realizes he’s been staring at her for a full minute now, enthralled in her gaze. In the way those eyes speak volumes to him about the Rhysand he’s never felt ready or willing to show, the Rhysand who helps children with their math homework and rescues kittens from trees simply because he wants to. But he’s never felt like hiding with her, never felt like anything and everything he says will be recorded and picked apart later-- never felt unsafe when he’s with her. Not once.

 

“You’re spectacular,” he breathes, instead of saying everything he feels inside of him-- because it’s too early, or because he’s a coward, he doesn’t know. He does know, however, that this woman before him-- this woman before him is a dream, but a tangible one, one he hopes to never wake from lest he lose her.

 

In return, a full-blown smile makes its way onto her mouth, and he has just fallen even deeper in love with her because she is everything, she is too much and not enough, she is sunlight and raindrops and stars and honeydew and-- and he’s staring again, he realizes as his cheeks heat up a bit and he glances away.

 

“Don’t stop,” she breathes, and he starts at this.

 

“Stop-- stop what?”

 

That smile hasn’t left her mouth. “Stop looking at me like you see me. Like I don’t have to hide behind a gown or a lifetime of party planning in order for you to still accept me for who I am. Don’t stop looking at me like-- like you…”

 

She trails off, perhaps recognizing, just as he, did how early it still is. He offers up a grin looks back at her, nodding slowly. “I never will,” he begins but something overwhelms him midway through and he just needs her, needs her lips on his and her hands in his hair. So he reaches to wrap one arm around her waist and fists the other in her hair, then lets their lips lock together in a gentle, tender way that reveals almost none of the passion he already feels for her.

 

His spirit soars when she kisses him back, fingers tangling themselves in his hair just as he had dreamed of, and he presses against her more as she opens her mouth to let his tongue slip in. They stay locked that way in the throes of passion for what could have been forever or just a moment, all he knows is that he’s kissing her, he’s kissing her, he’s--

 

“Oh, isn’t that wonderful,” says a voice from behind them. They break apart, lips swollen and cheeks flushed with pink, to find the kindly old woman who runs the shop with her hands clasped and a smile plastered on her benevolent face. They’re mortified, but she sighs. “Young love.” A pause, and a shake of the head. “It’s late. You two youngins get home safely now, but come back tomorrow.” She crosses to her car and gets in, starting the engine and driving away.

 

An abrupt laugh from Feyre has Rhys turning around to look at her. She shakes her head. “Only in Velaris,” she says, a smile gracing her face as she names the city they live in, “can you find an ice cream seller willing to let two young adults make out in front of her shop at eleven o'clock at night.”

 

A smile breaks his face in half and they both begin to laugh, groundbreaking, side-splitting sounds erupting in a torrent from them. He takes her hand after a moment and they exchange smiles, along with another light peck on the lips. “I’m glad I met you, Feyre.”

 

“Me too, Rhysand. I’m glad I met you, too.”

**Author's Note:**

> join me on tumblr at lizziecocoa.tumblr.com


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